She’d checked into a hotel with cash, then found a lawyer willing to see her that same week, and he filed paperwork to change her name from Faith Holland to Faith Lancaster. Understanding the rush, he’d pulled strings to get her in to see a judge, who he convinced her life was in danger. And as she still had faint bruises on her neck, and photographs she’d taken immediately after, he’d been willing to seal her records.

She’d been in New York for a year and she’d moved fast with everything she’d done. She had a new name, a new life, a shop she’d leased because it already had a commercial kitchen … and as she glanced around her apartment and out the window, she remembered she also had a slashed tire that might or might not present a problem.

Was it any wonder she’d turned Jason down? From the time her dad had left, leaving her to feel like it was her fault, that she was too much of a burden for him, she’d learned to distrust men. If the one who was supposed to love and take care of her couldn’t stick around, why would someone she merely dated?

She wasn’t a virgin, but she definitely didn’t get involved with many guys. Yet for the first time, she’d been severely tempted to break her no-dating rule. Jason got her blood pumping, desire flowing, and he made her want to step out of the hidden comfort zone she’d cushioned herself in for most of her life.

But she couldn’t. She knew better than to trust any guy, let alone a nightclub owner she’d just met. Even if he had been her savior tonight.

Chapter Two

Jason drove away from Faith’s apartment, a basket of candy on his passenger seat and his mind on the sexy woman he’d left behind, an unusual occurrence. He never had problems leaving a female in his rearview mirror. He wasn’t an ass, he just didn’t get attached. Something about Faith got to him, and considering she’d turned down his request for a date, he’d be better off forgetting about her. Except her tire had been slashed…

He shook his head and rode uptown to his cousin Gabe’s apartment. His wife, Izzy, greeted him at the door, her three-year-old-son, Noah, in her arms, her wild hair a halo around her head, her pretty face lighting up at the sight of him.

“Jason! Come on in. Gabe said you’d be stopping by.”

He kissed her on the cheek and chucked the boy under the chin. “Hey, little man. You’re getting so big.”

The child held up three fingers, wiggling to get down from his mother’s grasp. “I was just going to give him a bath. I’ll get Gabe for you,” she said.

As he stepped into the apartment, Gabe met up with him in the entryway. He paused to play with his son, lifting the child into the air and laughing with him before settling him into his mother’s arms, and they headed for his bath.